


The cauldron of life

by TheOrangeAurora



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death Mention, Wizard AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:13:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOrangeAurora/pseuds/TheOrangeAurora
Summary: When Dan was born, they knew he was different. Born into this world, but without emotion, he always felt different. Now, grown up and a master of magic and potions, he has made life in his little town and has been content. That is, until the day he comes across a potion that has a promise of making him finally feel.Based on the prompt: You are born without emotions; to compensate this, you started a donation box where people could donate their unwanted emotions. You’ve lived a life filled with sadness, fear and regret until one day, someone donates happiness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this, but since I wrote it all in one sitting (8h), it might seem a little off at some spots, pardon <3 I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

When he was born, it was instantly clear that something was not quite right. 

He didn't cry, only writhed in what seemed discomfort, and the sound that came from his lips was only disgruntled blubber of a newborn. His eyes remained dry no matter what, though.

They examined him, used all the magic known to check his well-being, but found nothing wrong.

His mother loved him as it was.

Dan had everything that a child could wish for. Magical toys, a little fuzzy pet that would change its shape from day to day, comfortable bed and a little treat always waiting for him.

He was content.

When he grew more, and began to read, his shelves had been filled with books of the most amazing variety, where the pictures would move and the letters would shine, some even creating true recreations of the story on the paper. When he began to study, his surroundings were filled with the wonders of their magical world, the purple shiny mist above the cauldron almost constantly present. His little pet shapeshifter remained affectionately curled around Dan's shoulders as the child would begin to make his own brews.

He was there, always ready for more information, for more work. He never complained nor got frustrated when something didn't work out.

The kids he would study with a few times a week would isolate him because he didn't show their kind of curious excitement, nor did he ever really change that forever slightly smiling expression even when somebody told about a painful accident with their first magic. 

And Dan couldn't understand why they would ever change away from that soft expression, and why would they push him away because of it. After all, his mum had always taught that smiling was good and only encouraged positivity.

She said it was a sign of friendliness and happiness.

When asked what happiness was, however, she'd been struck by a surprise and had tried very hard to explain it in a way that Dan could understand.

“You see, Bear, happiness is an emotion. It's a warm feeling that fills your chest when you see someone that is very important to you, a friend or family. It's the feeling when you get something that you have wanted for a long time. It's like how it feels when your tummy is filled with that tasty food that you have been dreaming of all day of. It's when you accomplish something good and someone smiles genuinely at you and you know that you have made someone else feel that same emotion.”

Dan had nodded along, as if he understood, his face still a light bow of lips and warm brown eyes, and his mother had kissed his forehead in a manner so familiar to him when she wasn't entirely sure what Dan was thinking of.

See, emotions was something that Dan didn't understand at all. He had read a lot, he had asked a lot, and had learned to categorise them in the good ones and bad ones to help him understand what others would think, what authors would try to explain in their novels, what would the appropriate reaction be if he knew how to feel them.

Since the day he was born, Dan had never felt what they called emotion.

Sometimes kids would say that he was an unfeeling shell, and he would know that what he should feel was anger and sadness though he felt no change in his body and mind. 

He wasn't unfeeling. He knew to recognise when something was beautiful and when something was ugly. He understood when he was hurt, the scalding needles on his skin unpleasant and painful. He understood when a poke was friendly and even supposed to draw a laugh from him when it hit a certain spot on his side and tiny jitters would run through his body and make him want to flinch in a different way than when he was hurt.

He could feel the softness of his pet's fur and his mother's hair, her soft fingertips as they brushed over his cheek. He knew that some plants felt fragile underneath his touch and how others were sturdy and hard to break when he would collect them for the potions. He knew how it was to feel tired, exhausted even, after a long day. He knew the way that the world changed when the day was sunny after a row of those full of rain. He knew how the heart could beat faster after running when he had to chase down his pet again.

Dan grew, the world changed, but he never reacted to it the way that others did.

Though outcast from socialising most times outside work and small talk, Dan knew he stood in a good place in his life. People would come to his house almost every day, looking for a magical remedy, hidden behind the wax seal of the vial, they would ask for his knowledge in exchange for gold coins. Sometimes he'd even see strangers from far-away places, where his name had reached the people who sought out the fixes for their problems. Some would have short, very concrete requests, others would go on in long-winding explanations of what had brought them to his little cottage on the very edge of the town.

His curious purpose in his limbs never stopped either. He read, he memorised, he brewed day by day, until callouses began to cover his fingers.

“Stardust, that's not for you,” He picked the fluffy shapeshifter, now in the shape of a white cat, off the table where a new batch of herbs had been laid out for drying. It meowed before it began purring and the sound only increased when Dan rubbed between the creature's ears before he set it aside. 

The cauldron was bubbling calmly when Dan settled into the armchair with a new book that he had picked up from a travelling merchant just days ago and flipped it open. Runes and pictures of plants were a little faded on the worn pages, but it never bothered Dan as he flipped the pages, one by one, absorbing the information etched into them. There were some potions he knew would be useful and sell well, there were others which were outdated and Dan knew improved versions of already.

 _The cauldron of life_ the title read, skimmed over just as casually as everything else in Dan's way, but he paused when he had passed the picture of the said cauldron and the paragraph began explaining the purpose of this magic.

_Throughout the years, emotions have been the main reason for the rise and fall of nations, be it the size of the Roman Empire or the solidarity of two people._

_Love has shown its softness, and jealousy and envy has shown how they can turn love sour. When chest burns with desire or aches with the loss and anger takes over, erasing the composure. When world gets too much and melancholy fills the head and the hands refuse to pick up the pen to respond to the letter of a friend because it would hurt too much to know - they are too far to reach. It's when joy turns arms and legs jittery and excitement makes you want to jump around, make your heart pump so much that the world seems brightest in the darkest of hour._

_There are times, when it becomes too much. When it would be easier to set these feelings aside to deal with later, or let them sit in the shelf forgotten._

_The cauldron of life is the exact solution for that. Take your wand or staff, dip it in this potion and pronounce the incantation. Keep the emotion in mind which is too much, allow the cauldron to absorb it. When times comes, just drink from the cauldron and you'll feel it once more._

Dan blinked at the words in front of him and the instructions for the potion. 

He'd brewed joy before. He'd even tried to hide love behind the wax seal. He'd created peace and caused the deepest sadness. But throughout all of it he'd always known that it was merely an amplification of what someone already felt. 

None of his potions worked on him because there'd been nothing to alter, to bring out or hide away in his soul. There was bluntness, calculating logic and more recipes hidden within him than he could probably list down, yet there hadn't been a hint of true feeling, nothing that made him see the world in the exact same colours as those he shared the town space with.

But as he read the description it dawned upon him; perhaps it was a chance for him. Perhaps by shedding away their feelings, he could take them from people. Perhaps there was a chance for him to finally experience the things he'd read volumes of thick books on.

His heart was peaceful, his expression - a blank note, as he pushed himself up from the seat and he began walking around the cottage, rummaging through his shelves and piling vials and wooden boxes on the remaining free surface of the table. Stardust's tail twitched, and Dan noted the curiosity in the green eyes of the shapeshifter “More work to do tonight after all. Perhaps I will feel what you feel soon, hm?” To that, Stardust meowed again and then shrunk into a little white mouse before disappearing between the rows of stacked books. 

The night was long and the bubbles that rose from the small cauldron changed their colour with every ingredient added. Camomile made it a soft yellow, just like the centers of the little flowers. The beetle eyes made it a dark purple and shiny. A pinch of thyme made the orange mixture shimmer.

The steam rose from the cauldron in thin curls that swallowed up each new ingredient hungrily as soon as it touched them and Dan's dark eyes followed them, distracted, whenever he'd stir the potion. 

Dan was sound asleep, the sun rays tickling his nose, when the sun began to rise.

=====

 _Some feelings too heavy on your chest? Feel free to leave them here._ The little sign next to the door read and the cauldron of clear liquid that hung on a sturdy metal hook next to it shimmered whenever a light breeze got caught up in the depths of the dark metal pot. There was a small sign of instructions, just below the invitation.

Dan patted it, the same way he did with Stardust whenever he expected the creature to behave and retreated into the cottage.

The day was long, with some quick customers and a few that would stay around longer than necessary. Dan even had to swat one younger customer away from a shelf full with jars of ingredients, shoving the vial for his mother into the boy's hands and politely pushing him towards the door. In this time, he completely forgot about the cauldron. 

It was only when he was turning the heavy door key when heading out to refill his pantry with food, was he reminded of the potion and he stood for a moment, wondering just how'd he forgotten about it before he looked into it. 

The clear potion had turned dark, with wisps of black and grey mixing with an occasional gleam of blue. 

Though unsure of what the colours meant, Dan subconsciously began to recite some poem he'd read in a book in his head, describing the hot crimson of love and flash red of anger, the green for those envious and the darkest shades of unhappiness. He continued through the lines of words in his mind as he traipsed into the town, where windows were filled with lights, where children were running around and laughing, where a young couple would giggle, foreheads pressed together as they sat on the porch of someone's parents' house. He watched them, as he always would and wondered how it felt and what it meant to feel like them. 

Love was described as selfless, where'd one be willing to lay down their head for another. Childhood was always painted with brightness of endless joy and laughter. Home was also a feeling, they said, and often than not it was a person, not place.

He had always found it odd, these descriptions. A life was over if handed over to another, a childhood was for growing and learning, and it was a roof above the head that described the meaning of home for Dan. He couldn't imagine life differently.

“Ah Daniel, welcome!” A voice full of cheer greeted him when he pushed the door open to the local store, and he nodded towards the lady behind the counter who had just been talking to another man. The man, at the first glance, seemed to be a stranger, and with that notion, Dan turned to gather the groceries he'd came to get. 

There were odd biscuits that he picked from the shelf, all shaped like bees and buzzing inside the container that they were packed away in. Food was always a thing he'd found himself understanding the emotions through, even if it had made others laugh when he'd attempted to explain it.

The sweetness was familiar and he knew that he liked it. He would compare the honey sweetness to positive emotions; they did say happiness was yellow. He'd eat the little bee biscuits and image that the taste was that same feeling his mother had told him about, that whenever he would accomplish something on the first go, he should bow his lips in a smile and treat himself with something pleasant.

Several other small containers and bags in his hands, he finally walked up to the shopkeeper and laid out the groceries without a word said, instantly reaching for the satchel of gold coins attached to his belt. Just as he usually would.

“Hello there, Daniel, was it?” A voice addressed him and he looked up to see the same stranger he'd noticed before, now standing there with a hand extended for a greeting handshake and blue eyes focused on Dan's face.

“Dan, please,” He corrected the stranger in the manner he'd grown used to doing after numerous times his mother had explained to him why it was important to talk to people, to return the polite greetings and to correct people with a pleasantry attached to the end to help him along. 

“Pleasure, Dan! I'm Phil, recently relocated to this wonderful little town. It's such a lovely place and people seem so content and loving. I'm jealous of everyone who had the pleasure to be born here!” The man explained without really being asked, and Dan listened, quietly, the smile still on his face as he nodded at polite intervals to ensure that the man was being listened to. 

“So what do you do, Dan?” Finally stopping to draw in a breath, the newly not-stranger questioned and his smile was so wide that Dan could note the laughter lines and little creases on the man's face, and he could only wonder how had they ended up there. His mother had always told him that some people would be creased with such lines, but they were the happiest people out there. Open and loving, always willing to share what they thought of things. 

She'd clearly been right.

“I brew potions and remedies for those who need them,” Though his voice was soft, he could note the flatness in the tone and he cleared his throat and allowed himself to smile at the other man a little more before turning away and towards the shopkeeper who had just finished counting his groceries “There you go. Thank you for the business,” And though this phrase always earned him some funny looks outside his cottage, he merely collected the groceries and turned to Phil “Welcome to our little town,” He spoke, noting the way the other man was still watching him curiously.

The way back was quiet. His mind was idly raking over the memory of the new acquaintance and realising that he'd never returned the occupational question. There had been a clear indication of wanting to know more, to say more, in the other man's expression and Dan found himself thinking how long it would be until the two men would cross paths once more. The town, after all, was small. It was hard to not meet someone at least once every few days. 

His thoughts were soon shelved similarly to the groceries in the pantry and he picked the cauldron from the hook, bringing it inside. The colour was still dark, reminding Dan of a potion he had to make once for healing someone's grandmother who had fallen ill in the autumn. Thankfully his potion had brought her out of bed in mere two days and back to full liveliness in four.

“Stardust?” He called out and a flutter of wings suddenly ceased right next to his head with a weight of a small white owl settling on his shoulder and hooting quietly. “Do you think this is going to work?” He questioned without expecting an answer and he scooped a bit of the potion into a metal cup, watching as the potion settled into the bottom of the dish without a single drop daring to spill. The cauldron cleared, meanwhile, the liquid returning to the shimmering see-through potion it had been before. He sent it back out with a murmur of incantation though his eyes were glued to the cup meanwhile, aware that the liquid was moving still, as if restless, in it. 

Another hoot sounded next to his ear, quieter, somehow softer as he brought the cup to his lips, dark eyes surveying the shimmering, ever-changing liquid before he tipped the cup and let it slide down his throat, the bitter taste running across his tongue and making him shiver. It settled into his stomach, heavily, and remained there like a rock, and though there was some discomfort, Dan couldn't feel anything else. No difference. Nothing remotely like what he'd expected to feel. No epiphany. 

“Must be a bust, again,” He spoke to Stardust as much as to himself and placed the cup down on the table, and instead picked up a book to read. Stardust made another soft hoot and with a flap of a wing against Dan's cheek, took off to settle somewhere on the top of one of the shelves.

The evening was quiet, his limbs were heavy, and though he was reading about a new set of potions, he felt his attention begin to drift. 

He just shifted in the seat, searching for a more comfortable position to sit in, then - again. He felt his mind drifting away from the pages and thinking about what seemed like nothing. It was a heavy feeling that he hadn't realised had moved from his stomach to his chest cavity, and suddenly it was harder to breathe. He gasped a little and blinked, rubbing his face as he set the book aside and stood to crack open the window. It wouldn't be a first when all the scents of potions would mix in the air of the small cottage, making him feel a bit ill.

The cool breeze rolled in and across the skin, making the goosebumps appear on his arms and he curled onto the armchair, pulling a blanket off of the back of it and around himself as he returned to the book. Words morphed in front of his eyes and refused to stay coherent and he furrowed his brows a little, rubbed his eyes, trying to reason why tiredness felt so wrong this time around. 

When water sprung to his eyes, he rubbed them again and set the book aside, pushing himself up to search for the kettle, ready to brew the tea his mother would always give him when first signs of cold would show themselves. His movements were slow, lethargic even, and his chest felt too heavy as he dropped the herbs into the cup to pour the boiling water over them. A familiar scent filled his nostrils soon and he understood that the remedy had been prepared correctly. 

And the scent was familiar. It was one that made him remember his mother and thank her in his mind for the quick solution. 

His mum, the one person that had taken it upon herself to always try to explain the world and ways to mend it to him in a way he would understand or could liken it to his understanding of the surroundings. The one that always offered him her affection and would take the time to ensure that he was well. The one who knew to ask the right questions that he could answer and the one that would sometimes not even need to ask them to know what he needed.

A wet droplet rolled down his cheek and landed onto the page of the book that he'd reopened once again once the tea had been prepared. He blinked and noticed his vision clear in exchange for several more wet lines running down his cheeks. He brought his hand up to rub at his cheeks, at his eyes, looking at the wetness and recognising tears. 

He'd cried before, but it had been when he was young and had accidentally fallen and broken his arm and when pain had been too much that his body had willed him to expel the water from the tear ducts. He knew that he wasn't feeling pain though, that it would be hard to miss something so intense. There was only the weight in his chest, the scent of the tea and the thoughts of his mother who he'd lost when he'd been in the middle of his teen years. 

The tears continued to fall and he could not find a rational explanation, mind jumping to having gotten some wrong fumes in his eyes, now burning his eyes; but there was no pain or itching. 

Drop by drop and his vision was too blurry. The book had slid off his lap and onto the floor but he paid it no mind, hands wiping at his face until his sleeves were too damp to do any good and his eyes were starting to hurt. There was a dull headache somewhere beneath his brow and his throat was filling up, making his breaths raspy until a sharp breath willed itself out of his mouth in a soft sob. 

After the first one, there came another and he bunched the blanket against his face when the sinking feeling in his chest grew, filling his lungs and his head and he had to lie down. He was exhausted, and the cool air was harassing his tear-streaked features too harshly. 

It was somewhere along the night that his sobs had ceased and his limbs, exhausted, had curled themselves close. His breaths were quiet in his sleep.

=====

Morning arrived with a chill of the air from the open window and he cracked his eyes open with a faint groan. He hurt, he thirsted, he was still feeling too heavy. He couldn't entirely grasp his surroundings at first until he realised that there was a far too fuzzy white rabbit sitting on one of the book piles, staring at him, the nose twitching curiously when Dan finally pushed himself to sit up.

A knock on his door echoed a little too sharply inside his skull and he had to clear his throat again to speak up loud enough “One moment,” He grabbed the cold cup of tea and emptied it in one go, a faint twinge joining the heaviness in his chest when he noted that familiar scent again but it was gone before he realised and he rolled his sleeves up before opening the door.

“Morning, Daniel, I'm here for that potion you promised me last week,” The man by the door was a townsperson he recognised from the always-annoyed expression, but this expression suddenly faltered when he eyed the young potion brewer “Blimey, are you feeling alright?” Though the expression had changed, the tone had not and Dan merely nodded while motioning to the man to enter. 

His feet felt heavy as he dragged them across the room and he nearly tripped when he tried to maneuver between the two crates in his way, only catching himself against the shelf and the jingle of dozens of glass vials brought him out from the small trance his mind had fallen into. He shook his head, ignoring the eyes on the back of his head and reached for the right potion. When he turned around, he was met with the mild concern that flashed in the other man's eyes momentarily “Three golds,” He handed the vial over as he usually would and ignored the small moment of hesitation before the man handed him the noted price.

It was a slow day, his body exhausted and he kept drinking cup after cup of water, trying to mend his body but there was a looming feeling that he couldn't place that made his hands shake and he didn't dare to try and set the kettle again. He found himself rearranging the vials, pushing them further off the edge, mind trying to rationalise why was he suddenly sure that they would be in danger of falling when they never had before. Only when he jumped at a knock, the realisation hit him, and they usually said one had to feel surprised, but at that moment his senses settled numb. 

He'd read about the tears so many times, about that physical feeling in one's chest, about how mind could grow preoccupied with somebody close who had passed, about the way limbs would tremble and how the mind would race to assume the illogical. He'd read about them so many times that he had memorised them and yet, when they had occurred to him, he hadn't been able to. 

Sadness and fear had been the things he'd never known, but as they soared inside his being, he felt how overwhelming the darkness, the _bad_ could be. The things his mum said were not always bad, but no matter how she had explained them to him, he hadn't been able to see as any good. 

Another knock sounded against the wooden door and Dan slowly made his way across the space of the small cottage to open it, trying to stop what he assumed fear to make such familiar situation suddenly frightening.

“Hello there, Dan!” A cheerful voice coming from just as cheerfully-expressional man greeted him and he eyed how the man's posture was leaning a little forward, hands crossed behind his back and how there was an unusually large amount of life in the blue eyes. 

“Phil, welcome,” Dan greeted the man and stepped aside to let him enter. His mother had always asked before letting people in but he never had understood it and though there was a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind with thoughts that made no sense, Dan knew his power was beyond most in the town. 

“So how may I help you? What brew you require?” The standard questions fell from his lips without a second thought and he stood there, watching the man whose hands were now plucking at the hem of his shirt. Dan recognised that action; too many of the first time customers were like that, or even more frequent ones if they were to buy an odd potion. “Nothing to worry about, I brew with confidentiality unless you're planning to partake in murder,” He added with as much of an ease as he usually would only to spot the man's cheek tint pink.

“I-uh, I actually don't…. Need? Any potions??” The man, clearly nervous and turning an increasing shade of pink, stammered out while looking at the tips of his shoes.

Dan was at loss; it wasn't exactly a very frequent occurrence that someone would knock on his door without needing anything. 

“Would you like to sit down then?” He motioned to a chair and the man nearly jumped at that but nodded and took the seat on the little wooden chair that looked just as small beneath him as it usually did beneath Dan. Not many sported his height and there was a part of Dan wondering if there was any reason for that.

“I hope I'm not interfering?” The man, finally looking up and at Dan, frowned a little. 

“Not at all, I don't have any withstanding orders currently,” Dan, suddenly realising that his expression was not one of a smile for once, quickly allowed his lips to bow into one again and noticed how Phil's face lit up with his own smile again as well. “Perhaps a cup of tea?” Unsure of how guests were to be treated, Dan settled on approaching Phil like he would the far-away travellers who'd come to find him specifically.

“Please?” Phil piqued with a growing smile and Dan merely nodded and started the kettle, hand hovering over the herbs for a moment, and he felt the tremble run through his fingers and the heaviness in his chest increase. 

“Is everything alright?” The voice startled Dan a little and it was then that he realised that he'd been staring at the herbs longer than it had seemed and instantly he reached out to add the leaves into two cups and poured water over them, a hand waved with a under the breath murmur steadily floating one of the cups towards the visitor who gladly accepted it. 

“I have been better,” He answered in his usual truthful manner while taking a seat as well, holding the cup in his hands as he looked at his visitor, not knowing what else to offer the barely not-stranger. “But so seem to have you,” He pointed out before Phil could open his mouth, a finger pointed towards the man's face and Phil brought a hand up to his cheek only to turn a little darker and breathe a laugh.

“I guess you can say that I have been better but have never been this amazing either,” The man laughed and took a sip of the tea only to jump when the scalding hot beverage hit his tongue. 

Dan merely cocked his head at that “You're an odd one, Phil,” He commented and there was a twinge of what he identified as sadness, the same kind when he'd thought of his mother the previous night though no tears were burning his eyes. Carefully, he blew at the steaming cup and then sipped, allowing the warmth of the tea wash through the feeling in his chest.

He watched, as the silence dragged on, how Phil's eyes would dart around the room, observing the cauldron in the middle of the room, the numerous shelves of vials, jars and boxes, the herbs hanging from the ceiling, drying. He noted how they lingered longer on the books and the table where the fresher herbs still remained.

“Oh, you have a dog?” Phil suddenly broke the silence when a plump little pup stumbled out from between the maze of books and curiously sniffed in Phil's direction, the short white tail wagging excitedly. Phil, setting the cup aside, leaned forward, hand extended towards the small canine and soon enough Stardust licked at the man's fingers, allowing for a scratch behind the ear and Phil's voice rang with a fond chuckle at that “Aren't you adorable, little one,” Dan found himself fixated onto the scene and a sliver of fear tinted his usual casualness when Phil looked up and their eyes met. The man was smiling widely, openly, and Dan recognised the expression from his days of childhood, though he'd never known how to name it.

“Ah, well, you see,” Dan pulled his eyes away from the other man's face and looked at the little dog and clicked his tongue twice. Instantly the dog morphed into a white sparrow that shot up in the air only to settle on Dan's head “Stardust is a shapeshifter,” And somehow all the fearful traces settled into nothingness once more when faced with the mesmerised expression on other man's face.

“Amazing! I have never had the pleasure to see one with my own eyes!” Phil leaned back in his seat, still watching the sparrow before his eyes lowered and met Dan's once more and a smile overtook his features, wider than ever, and Dan had to wonder if it didn't hurt; after all, his own smiles had always been small, finding any more than that would be hard to maintain for long. 

“Thank you,” The words rolled off his lips before he even knew what he was thanking Phil for, but the other man just regarded him softly and nodded, before turning to take another, tentative sip at the tea.

The time ticked away with each sound of a popping bubble in the slow simmering potion in the cauldron, and it was as if nothing more could make Phil satisfied with his visit, only an occasional question or two interrupting the silence. It was when the cups had been emptied that Phil finally stood and Dan mirrored the action, Stardust whizzing off to sit on the chain that hung from the ceiling where the cauldron was hung. 

“Thank you for the tea, Dan,” The man thanked him and Dan nodded, extending his hand towards the other man, awaiting the goodbye though his breath had become heavy again and he had to swallow before he could speak up to respond.

“There's more where it came from,” He wrapped his fingers around the other man's palm and they shook, dark brown eyes and blue ones holding as steady of a contact as their digits before they released them.

“I'll see you around then, Dan,” Phil waved, once more regarding the potion master with a smile and Dan found himself choking on his breath a little once the door had been closed behind him.

=====

It was a week later that Dan next touched the small cauldron by his door, having taken his time to understand how to control the seemingly irrational feeling of fear that would visit him and the choking sensation that sadness brought upon along with the occasional tear that would escape his eye. 

There were three bee biscuits buzzing inside the container on his table as he stared at them over the edge of his book, expression void of either of the two emotions he now knew. His heart beat too quickly; a side-effect of fear, he'd assumed after none of the usual medicines had done anything to help the sensation. He felt how the beat rate would increase when his mind zoned in on the cauldron, and how his fingers would tighten their hold on the book without Dan's conscious will for them to do so.

A low croak from the white frog settled on the arm of Dan's armchair finally pulled him out of his trance and he looked at the little amphibian “Time to see what else is there,” Another croak was the only response and Dan took a deep breath, willing the tension to stop, willing his legs to move and take him just outside the cottage, cup in hand and to scoop up the much brighter potion up from the cauldron.

The red and green wisps kept tumbling over one another, the mixture almost turning into a brown sludge the longer Dan looked down at it. The door fell shut behind him and he regarded the cottage for a silent moment.

“Here goes...” He murmured to nobody but himself and threw his head back, pouring the potion down his throat, expecting the same bitter taste only to begin coughing violently when the potion began to burn painfully and the feeling flared up more with every breath, inhale or exhale. He doubled over, the cup clattered on the ground, rolling somewhere beneath the table but he paid it no mind. His heartbeat was too fast, his eyes were watering, his chest actually hurt and for a moment Dan thought that someone had thrown a poison into his cauldron. The pain was so strong that he soon found himself on his hands and knees, wheezing and snotty, trembling and sweaty before, as soon as it began, the feeling passed and he collapsed onto the floor, face pressed against the cool wooden panels as he breathed, the world bleary before his eyes.

He only felt a soft tap of a cat's paw at his face when he felt the tiredness take over and, with a single deep exhale, he let the sleep take over. 

When he came to it, there was a soft, warm, breathing body next to him, which instantly jumped to its feet when Dan stirred. A curious snout sniffed at his face before a warm, wet tongue licked some of the sweat off his cheek. 

“Off, Stardust,” He muttered, gently pushing the creature aside before pushing himself to sit up. There was a pounding feeling inside his skull and suddenly he wished that he hadn't eaten the day before when his stomach turned and knotted. 

Dan grunted, pushing himself up and stripping off the sweat-soaked shirt as he stumbled through the cottage and to the small bedroom, falling into the sheets face-first. 

=====

There was banging on the door and the feeling that filled Dan's being when he woke up was just as discontent as the repeated, too heavy hits against his front door. Grumbling, Dan rolled out of the bed and, after kicking the bunched up dirty shirt out of his way, he swiftly pulled the door open between the knocks, still shirtless but finding it the least of his concerns. The main was to stop the sound.

An impatient tap of fingers against the other arm was the sound that instantly replaced the knocking and he was faced with a stern and fairly judgemental look of a woman whose thin brow was arched so high that Dan could wonder if it could reach all the way till her hair line if she tried hard enough. “You were supposed to deliver your brews two hours ago,” Without a greeting nor waiting for his, she pushed past the young man and looked around the room with mild expression of disgust painted across her face. “I'm not paying the delivery and I expect you'll drop the price as a compensation that I had to reschedule the appointment just because you,” She pointed her finger at Dan and the man suddenly found the urge to slap her hand away, but instead he clasped his teeth together tightly “Couldn't get up early enough.”

“Have them and get out,” His tone a little strained, he grabbed the vials and shoved them in her hands, intent to get her out as quick as possible. “Don't bother paying,” A hand on her shoulder, he stopped the woman who had began rummaging through a satchel, muttering under her breath. Her expression was full of surprise, he realised, when he stopped by the door, pushing her outside his cottage “And don't bother coming back,” He added before slamming the door in her face.

He leaned his back against the door and drew in multiple deep breaths, trying to calm the fire that was building up within him, but grunted when his fingers curled into fists. 

He could hear the bubbles. He could hear the faint buzz of the bee biscuits. He could hear the wind in the roof tiles. Even the flutter of the small sparrow wings was too much and suddenly his body flushed with fire, turning his vision blurry in a way he'd never experienced. His arms and legs moved before he realised it and suddenly the container of biscuits was flung across the room, breaking and shattering two of the biscuits while the third one whizzed up to the ceiling. He kicked at the nearest pile of books and a sound, rawer than ever, broke from his throat as he shoved the chair and it tipped over and fell with a rattle.

Before he knew it the fresh herbs were scattered on the floor and there were pieces of paper everywhere, books scattered and one unlucky one even torn apart, an empty cover on the arm chair staring back at Dan as the sound of broken glass finally landed him in reality again. Silver of a potion pooled on the ground amongst the shards of glass, and flowers began to bloom out of the wooden floor panels, innocent white buds popping up one after the other, the yellow centres as if smiling at Dan.

A sob broke from his chest and he sunk to the floor, wrapping his arms around his legs and buried his face into the knees. It burned inside still, the feeling, bubbling louder than any of his potions and he hated it. He hated it and it made him want to succumb to the fear, to sadness, though neither seemed to soothe the feeling.

Dan had no idea how long he sat there, his body stiff, tense and throat too raw for his liking. The lone bee biscuit continued to buzz near the ceiling but he had no strength to stop it.

A soft knock on the door drew his attention and he looked up, groggily. 

Another knock followed, a little hesitant this time and after a short moment, a voice followed “Dan? I brought some tea herbs,” It was Phil and Dan rubbed at his face before motioning a hand at the door, muttering a short incantation lowly under his breath and the door clicked open, swinging just enough to leave it ajar and inviting for Phil to enter if the man chose to. 

A mop of black hair poked in through the crack before the full body of the man emerged through the door. Dan didn't look up at him, didn't speak, didn't move, simply stared down at his knees when a small sniffle escaped him. This was enough to signal to Phil where the other man was and that, perhaps, he really was worse this time around than the last that they had met. 

“Damn, Dan-- Are you okay?” Dropping the herbs on the table, Phil kneeled next to Dan, a hesitant hand placed on his bare shoulder and Dan shook his head. 

There was a low murmur and suddenly there was a blanket in Phil's hands, only to soon drape it over Dan's shoulders.

“Do you…. Want to talk about it?” Phil soon settled to sit next to Dan.

When Dan didn't answer, they just sat in silence for a while, the buzzing of the bee still somewhere above their heads as Phil watched it move from one corner to the other slowly. 

“Thank you,” And this time Dan understood what he was thanking the man for, bumping his shoulder against Phil's lightly before attempting to scramble to his feet. Phil was up before Dan, faster, and held his hand out towards Dan which the potion master gladly accepted and pulled himself up to the other man's height. They stood there, in the silence, for a little longer, hand in hand before Phil slowly released Dan's and looked around, eyes lingering on the sizeable flower patch that had grown out between the pieces of glass.

“Should we clean it up?” Dan nodded and looked around, first noting the book he'd harmed the most. He picked up the empty cover and began to wander around the room, mending the volume page by page, his voice low and soft as he spoke in incantations and it felt that with every healed page, his own head felt a little clearer. He looked up in time to see how Phil's hands moved, and how the toppled over towers of books stacked themselves back up and how the chair returned to its upward position. It didn't take long but soon the room was back to how it had been and the lone bee biscuit had been trapped into a jar.

Steaming cups of tea, pieced together by clearly less knowledgeable Phil, sat on the table and the men sat close to each other. The silence was long, but comfortable, and soon Dan felt how it was the familiar neutrality that had settled into his bones, and the blanket around his shoulders was warm in a similar way that Phil's hand had been earlier.

“Did you need me to make you something?” Dan questioned, suddenly aware that perhaps the other man's visit had had more purpose than just to take care of Dan after his newly acquired emotions had won him over too quickly.

“Only some friendly banter,” There was a fond, soft laughter in Phil's words and Dan looked up and at the man again to spot the familiar warmth in his cheeks. Without thinking, he brought his hand up and gently pressed his finger against the warmth on the unusually pale cheek. The warmth grew beneath his fingertip in a way that Dan hadn't witnessed before and it only increased as he drew the finger along the flushed skin.

“Odd but valuable Phil,” He muttered under his breath and though he didn't know to express it correctly, his tone was as soft as his voice allowed.

=====

It was several weeks before he even looked at the small cauldron next, the fear ghosting through his limbs whenever the idea crossed Dan's mind and he allowed it to win, to draw his eyes to the ground whenever he came into the touching distance of the cauldron. 

The intensity of anger had been too much to handle and his hands shook just remembering the absence of that same clarity that he'd always relied upon while growing up. 

And there was sadness that would accompany him whenever he saw Phil, whose presence had become bi-daily and then - daily, go. 

“Dan, I never asked you about the cauldron by the door,” One day, as Dan was measuring the ingredients for the next potion, Phil asked, settled into Dan's armchair comfortably and with a book on his lap where he'd placed it when the question had come to the man's mind. 

Dan tensed, but before he said anything, Phil kept on talking “I noticed it's been soft yellow for the past week, it looks happy.''

When Dan looked up at Phil, the other man was looking down at the book again, flipping over a page and not saying anything else. 

“Has it now?” Dan muttered as he returned to measuring, but his focus was lost.

For many years, he had wondered about happiness, had tried to find ways to recreate it through the sweetness of the biscuits and taking a moment to look at things people would call beautiful, to try and appreciate the warmth of the fire on a cold day and to place an imagined sensation to what kids always seemed to display. 

He paused measuring the powdered mushrooms and sat up straight, hands down in his lap. Stardust raised its head curiously, the white snake having slept calmly on the corner of the table while Dan had worked.

“How long have you known?” He asked quietly and there was no sound for so long that Dan wondered if the other man had suddenly evaporated from the reality.

“Since the very beginning,” Finally, the answer came, just as quietly and Phil shifted “The shopkeeper told me, but I couldn't see it the way she described you. When I talked to you, there was something else.”

A quiet 'hm' found it's way from Dan's throat and he pulled himself up from his seat, looking through the window and at the long stretch of the field beyond, a lone tree in the middle of it visible in the distance.

“With everything they've put you through, you deserve to know happiness,” Phil, suddenly right behind Dan spoke, softly, and took Dan's hand, unlocking the potion master's fingers to place the metal cup in his hand, using his palm to curl Dan's digits around the cool dish. Dan watched the faint reflection of himself and Phil on the glass of the window, noting the encouraging way Phil's lips always liked to bow into when the man smiled “And if anything goes wrong, I'll be here,” He promised before stepping away and retreating to his seat.

“Phil?” Phil looked up and away from the book again upon the sound of his name and Dan turned towards the other man, trying to show his most genuine smile “Thank you,” As if reoccurring theme in their conversations, Dan thanked.

The potion was yellow like the honey and the sun, like the centres of flowers and the sunset as it calmly rolled over itself in the cup. Dan held it, mesmerised by the colour for far too long, fingers trembling a little, still frightened to bring it up to his lips, but finally he did.

It was the taste of honey, the warmth of a sunlight and the rise of the a good morning awakening. It filled his every breath and his stomach, reaching beyond to touch his toes, the tips of his fingers, the very entirety of his head and it was warm. So very warm.

His throat constricted when the airy feeling of his lungs took home next to the joyful jerk of his heart. 

A tear rolled down his cheek, but he was not sad, his cheeks cratered with dimples as his face settled into a smile that could not contain the entirety of the feeling. 

He heard the steps before a hand settled on his shoulder and he couldn't help but to instantly turn around to face the blue-eyed man whose expression was the sun itself, whose softness of touch and voice were the feather of the softest bird, whose willingness to give Dan happiness caused the tears to flow down Dan's cheeks. 

“Now, now,” Phil spoke, softly as ever, and wiped the tears from Dan's face gently “You deserve so much happiness, to know it, feel it, receive it,” With every dab at his cheeks Dan felt the warmth grow. 

“Thank you, Phil, so much,” He felt his chest fill with the elation, and reached out, cupping the other man's face in his hands gently, a thumb running over the gentle blush that once more dusted Phil's pale cheeks “Thank you,” He pulled the man closer, placing his lips against Phil's forehead, a form of affection he'd known best from his mother and one that he had never felt like expressing himself until now.

Hands wound around his body and he felt himself being pulled forward until their bodies were pressed against each other comfortably and Dan relaxed into the embrace, wrapping his arms around the other man, returning the hug, face finding the nook of Phil's neck.

“I'll give you all of it,” Phil murmured and the warmth of the embrace was still strong when the two men pulled apart from it.

“I promise.”

When Phil leaned in, Dan's eyes had already fluttered shut.


End file.
